Holly's eyai Yuletide story

(archiving for unravels)

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I surface briefly from a pile of crumpled tissues to deposit a gift for ariastar! This is based on fahye's awesome original eyai story and the many wonderful spinoff stories it inspired, most of which can be found linked here.

This story is set before the Iron Revolution, and deals mostly with characters from fahye's "Three Bags Full." Thanks for letting me play with them a little! It also probably asks more questions than it answers, because I am evil. :D

Many thanks to NJ the uber-beta, as always!

( Catalyst )

oh my god I can't believe I'm actually posting about this

I weighed myself this morning for the first time since our BMI clinical lab in first year, and I'm at 61kg (134 pounds)*. Which...is basically what I vaguely remember weighing two years ago, so hurrah consistency! Hopefully another few weeks of puffing away on the bike in front of NCIS will shave off another couple of kilos -- not that I am at all unhappy with the way I look at the moment, but there's a very nice dress that I bought in my freakish exercise phase in 2006 and I'm pretty sure if I can get down to 58kg or so then it might actually fit me again.

CLOTHING: it's the only motivation I really have, despite an extensive education in the health benefits of exercise. Sad but true.

*For context: I'm 1.68m tall, which is about 5'6".

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And now I promise not to talk about my weight again unless it is along the lines of 'woe is me, the Christmas feast has slayed me, I will never move my bulk again'.

Which is quite likely: we've ordered the turkey and the ham and the tiny Nurnberger sausages, and Dad is planning some kind of stuffing extravaganza and a detailed wine list. Mum and I are currently soaking dried fruit in apple brandy and spices, soon to be mixed with roasted hazelnuts and chopped dark chocolate and bits of honeycomb, then stirred into decadently expensive vanilla icecream and refrozen until Christmas lunch.

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White Collar AU has hit 4000 words. Still no plot. Still not very good. But god, it's fun :D

"You said it yourself, I'm a bad shielder. You got through sometimes; you saw glimpses of me."

"Where's this going, Neal?"

--Peter! Eyes on the road!

Peter slammed on the brakes. That cab had not been there two seconds ago. New York was full of irresponsible drivers.

A wide-eyed Neal was clutching at his bagel as though it were the security codes for the Louvre. "Jesus Christ. I'm telling Elizabeth that you should let me drive. She loves us too much to see us perish in a traffic accident."

"She loves me."

"Sure." Neal sounded smug.